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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26842672">Lithaen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefreshestandthebest/pseuds/thefreshestandthebest'>thefreshestandthebest</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>MAAS Sarah J. - Works, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Awkwardness, Drama, F/M, Gen, Past Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:07:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26842672</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefreshestandthebest/pseuds/thefreshestandthebest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lithaen reappears in Chaol's life. a.k.a. that awkward moment when you realize your boss is married to your ex-boyfriend, whom you cheated on with his best friend's cousin</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chaol Westfall &amp; Yrene, Chaol Westfall/Yrene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lithaen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Blood was everywhere.</p><p>That was Yrene’s first observation as she ran up beside the stretcher being wheeled into the emergency room by the Tower physicians. Her second was that the moaning patient’s horribly shattered leg was the source. The third: he would die soon if she didn’t do something.</p><p>The physicians filled her in on his condition. Healthy middle-aged man, hurt in a construction accident. The leg was shredded, painfully clear from the blood still pooling below the makeshift tourniquet on the man’s thigh. His name was Alfa Coleman.</p><p>“Let’s get him sedated. I need fresh water and linens.” One of the physician’s assistants on call that night — Rivia, was her name — caught her eye and hurried away. Yrene turned back to the man on the stretcher. Another physician handed her a cup of the liquid that helped a patient rest undisturbed. The healer held it to the man’s lips. “Mr. Coleman, this will help you sleep without pain while we heal your leg, okay?”</p><p>The man shuddered with another wave of pain but acquiesced, his lips parting. Once it was down, Yrene held a glowing hand to his forehead. He was asleep in seconds.</p><p>Rivia came running back, her black hair fluttering behind her. She bore water and towels, looking to Yrene for further instruction.</p><p>It was this look that Yrene had to grow accustomed to as Head Healer of the Tower of Dawn in Rifthold. At first it was a daunting prospect, being suddenly responsible for the healers, physicians, staff, and patients that lived and worked here, a burden she struggled to know how to share.</p><p>To Yrene, that look was proof of everything there was to lose. If she choked and couldn’t delegate, lives were lost. If she gave the wrong instructions, lives were lost. But she also learned that the higher the stakes, the better able she was to focus.</p><p>She met the assistant’s gaze. “Please clean the patient’s wound. I need to get a better look at the injury.”</p><p>“Yes, Head Healer.”</p><p>Rivia, undaunted, bent to the task. Not for the first time Yrene was glad Rivia was working the current shift. The physician’s assistant was calm under pressure and never seemed to bat an eye at even the most gruesome of injuries or illnesses. A true professional. There were many acolytes training to be either healers or physicians in the Tower, and Rivia was one of them, well on her way to becoming a great physician.</p><p>Yrene delegated tasks to the other two physicians beside her, then performed a cursory assessment with her magic. As she suspected, it was bad. The wound was messy, and he had lost a lot of blood. Once again Silba’s gift told her that death was close. </p><p>But she’d saved people from the brink before. She could do it again.</p><p>When the physicians stepped back, Yrene stepped forward, laying her hands over the worst of it. Slowly she found the broken nerves, blood vessels, and muscles in the carnage and started knitting them all back together. It was very slow, very focused work. Dimly she was aware that someone found a stool for her, and as she lowered herself onto it, she settled in for yet another long night.</p><hr/><p>As Rivia washed her hands, she was once again awed by the power that resided in the Tower of Dawn. The very best healers perhaps in the entire northern continent lived and worked here. It was what drove Rivia herself to return to Rifthold.</p><p>In Meah, she’d helped midwives deliver babies and made salves for the sick and injured. When magic returned to the land, she found hedgewitches — with great difficulty, since people were still hesitant to practice magic out in the open. But she found them, learned from them as much as she could, kept their secrets. This last part was easier than she cared to admit, being a former lady’s maid and all. Such things were part of the job description.</p><p>Another time, another life. She even went by a different name then. That girl followed her hedonism where it took her, paying no heed to the lives she trampled in the process. And at the end of that road, when the prince she thought she was in love with used her, then left her like so much rubbish on the road, she woke up and decided the emptiness in her chest could be filled once again. But this time, it wouldn’t be with men or status or fine things.</p><p>It was a revelation when she discovered healing. Even though she had no magic of her own, there were things she could do to make someone who was hurting feel better. She would never forget how her first “patient,” a scrap of a girl living in the slums of Meah, seemed on the brink of death until Mara, a hedgewitch, had the girl drink a herbal concoction Rivia herself had made. Then she watched as Mara held her fingers to the girl’s temples, murmuring something, and though Rivia couldn’t understand what was said nor see anything take place, she felt the shift in that dingy room.</p><p>How something so simple could be so life-changing Rivia didn’t have a clue. Slowly she felt the restless energy within her settle into something infinitely more calm. Calm wasn’t something she ever felt in her life, except perhaps when she waited on Lady Bosten. In addition to discretion, calm and patience were essential parts of a maid’s job. Rivia had feigned it as best she could, only letting out her true emotions in the precious little time she had to herself.</p><p>But this calm was utterly captivating. She no longer felt the urge to scratch the proverbial itch. Instead, she felt purpose stir in her heart again — not the raging fire of passion but a slow-burning ember, a flame that would only grow over time.</p><p>So she let the girl that was Lithaen die. And let the woman who is Rivia be born.</p><p>She traveled back to Rifthold after the war, in part because she wanted a do-over in this city where so many things ended for her, but mostly because she heard the call for healers and physicians go out across the country. She wanted to learn more than what a few scattered midwives and hedgewitches in the backcountry could teach.</p><p>Now she looked over her shoulder. The Head Healer, Yrene Westfall, stood with her head bowed in deep concentration over their patient. Rivia had seen her at work before, knitting together the tiniest of nerve endings and blood vessels on a stroke victim. She had never asked the healer outright, but she knew that it was painstaking work.</p><p>The Head Healer probably didn’t even know her name. Rivia had only begun working in the emergency halls a few weeks ago, having completed her course of classes. The Tower’s leader came into contact with way too many people in a day — staff and patients alike — to be able to remember the name of just another physician’s assistant.</p><p>Which was why Rivia had never approached the other woman about what she suspected. That Yrene was married to the man Rivia had left — like so much rubbish on the road — six years ago.</p><p>Back then, she had been flattered that the young, dashing Captain of the Guard singled her out, a lady’s maid, when he could have had anyone. What they had was thrilling, illicit. The feeling of having a man that powerful wrapped around her finger made her bold, stupid. The Captain, she thought, was a suitable lover, but after a few months she began daring herself to secure an even higher position. So when Prince Roland happened along, well… the rest is history.</p><p>She wished she could say that she’d never forget the look on Chaol’s face when he found her and the prince together, but the truth was she hadn’t even looked. Didn’t face the hurt she had caused for what it was.</p><p>But now, as a physician-in-training, she saw pain all the time. Studied their causes, their effects. Now, she couldn’t run from anyone in pain, but neither did she want to anymore.</p><p>When she first arrived at the Tower, she hadn’t known the Head Healer’s name, nor what had become of Chaol Westfall. She’d thought that he would still be Captain of the Guard, assuming he didn’t perish in the war. When she learned the truth, her initial thought was that some god was playing tricks on her, reuniting her with a part of her past she’d rather forget. Maybe she deserved it. But if living with that knowledge was what it cost to study with the greatest physicians and healers in Adarlan, she’d gladly pay it.</p><p>It was best never to mention it, Rivia decided. Lord Westfall visited the Tower occasionally, but it was easy enough to avoid running into him. The Tower was a sprawling complex, almost as big as the palace. She hadn’t so much as seen him from a distance during any of the times he came, and she planned to keep it that way.</p><p>After all, Rivia had come to Rifthold to start over. Begin a new life, with a new profession and a new purpose. It would do no one any good to look back. So as she placed a stool by the Head Healer and took up a position beside her, Rivia settled in for another long night.</p><hr/><p>All she had to do was make herself scarce.</p><p>The Yulemas Ball at the Tower of Dawn was in full swing. Patients, physicians, healers, staff, and all their families were invited to celebrate the end-of-year holiday. Thus, the main courtyard was decked in bright, festive decorations: holly boughs and wreaths in every corner, twinkling lights, and little bells chiming softly in the chill winter night. Music drifted from the makeshift dance halls in the far corners of the space. Fireplaces and braziers were set up everywhere to keep partygoers warm outside, while the indoor courtyard just beyond housed the food stalls that had been invited to cater.</p><p>It was more of a festival than a ball, really. Yes, there was dancing and dining, but everyone mingled so freely that there was hardly any of the formality Rivia expected from typical balls, especially those she prepared for as lady’s maid.</p><p>She hadn’t brought any family with her — didn’t have any to bring. So as Rivia stood in her circle of physician friends, she kept an eye out for the Head Healer. Particularly her husband.</p><p>All she had to do was make sure he never saw her.</p><p>Of course she had seen him — from a distance. He was impossible to miss, tall and handsome in his fine clothes, beaming next to his wife as she introduced him to her colleagues, patients. Though he was no longer Captain of the Guard, he certainly still looked fit enough for the job. Rivia didn’t feel any of the old stirrings she once had when she looked upon him, but she could see why a cluster of teenage girls inevitably followed wherever he went. </p><p>It would be easy to avoid the Hand to the King, Rivia thought, satisfied. Just steer clear of the gaggle of girls and the Head Healer. She’d be able to hear or see them coming from a mile off, at which point she could make a sly exit.</p><p>She did not, unfortunately, expect her friends to want to meet him.</p><p>“If we head over there now,” Gillian was saying, “perhaps the Head Healer will notice us and make an introduction.” Gillian was a few years younger than Rivia, and her best friend. Currently, the woman’s dark eyes were shining with mischief, which made Rivia want to rescind her best friend declaration.</p><p>“Why do you want to meet him?” countered Robine, skeptical. “He’s a noble and the king’s right hand man. I doubt we mean anything to the likes of him.”</p><p>Rivia wanted to hug her. Instead she chimed in, “Yeah. And I doubt the Head Healer even remembers our names enough to introduce us.”</p><p>“She remembered mine a couple days ago!” said Olly, her girlish face lighting. Olly was the eldest of them — twenty-six — but looked the youngest. “Even I was surprised. Very perceptive, our Head Healer.”</p><p>“Great,” replied Gillian. “The crowd around them appears to be thinning.” They peered over at the healer and her husband: their backs were to the central fountain and they looked to be in conversation with a patient and her family. “Come on. Who knows? Perhaps a royal invitation is in our future!”</p><p>Rivia stood in silence, listening with growing horror as the conversation took the exact turn she didn’t want it to take. Her only ally in this losing fight, Robine, continued to voice her reluctance, but it was clear where this was all headed. If Rivia didn’t make her escape now, she knew her friends would drag her over there and it’d be too late.</p><p>“Shoot, I just remembered,” Rivia said, digging in her heels as they all began drifting toward the Westfalls. “Mrs. Coleman wanted me to check in on her husband tonight. Catch up with you later?” Rivia was in charge of Mr. Coleman’s rehabilitation, and his wife was a fussy woman. It was a believable excuse.</p><p>“Can it wait?” Gillian asked, arm still looped around hers. “It’ll only take a moment.”</p><p>“Exactly,” she replied, extracting her arm gently from her friend’s. “I should go now before I forget.”</p><p>“Hmm. She may be right,” Olly remarked, a glint of mischief in her baby blue eyes. “Lord Westfall is <em> distractingly </em> handsome. Our dear Rivia may get lost in his eyes and never find her way back to us.”</p><p>The other girls laughed as Rivia gave them an indulgent, tight smile. <em> Gods. </em> They didn’t know how close to the truth Olly’s words were, once. And Rivia wanted to keep it that way. Needed to.</p><p>She slipped away, breathing a sigh of relief. Pacing a couple steps in the opposite direction of the Westfalls, she tried to appear casual, looking around for the Colemans. <em> That was a close one </em>. She indeed looked for her patient, weaving her way towards the indoor courtyard all the while. If her friends found her later, she would be able to say honestly that she had checked on her patient but went to find food after because she got hungry. Gods willing.</p><p><em> Knowing the gods, however </em> , thought Rivia as she picked a path to the building’s arches, <em> they’ll find a way to make avoidance impossible the whole night </em>. She prayed anyway, to whichever gods were listening.</p><p>Inside the spacious inner courtyard, Rivia relaxed as the warm scent of roasted chestnuts, cinnamon, fresh bread, and a wave of other delicious foods inundated her. She turned toward the window where she could watch the festivities unfold outside. The Westfalls were nowhere in sight, and so were her friends — likely concealed by the glowing fountain splashing in the middle.</p><p>Wandering around, she continued to keep an eye out for the Colemans. She’d seen them earlier that night: once, talking to another couple, and the second time getting food in this very hall.</p><p>By some rare stroke of luck, she spotted them sitting by a fireplace in the far corner. Mrs. Coleman appeared to be in some kind of argument with the Head Physician, while Mr. Coleman looked on, no doubt accustomed to this sort of dynamic.</p><p>Rivia strode over, a genuine smile on her face. Mrs. Coleman could be difficult, but it was clear she loved her husband very much. Mr. Coleman himself was easygoing and loved to make people laugh.</p><p>He saw her first. “Here I thought you’d run off with your sweetheart and forgot about me,” he teased. His wife and the Head Physician halted their discussion to peer at her.</p><p>“I just wanted to check on you, Mr. Coleman, and then I’ll be out of your hair for the night.” Rivia sat on the couch across from them. “How’s that leg feeling?”</p><p>The Head Physician and couple chimed in. His progress was good — he still had a few weeks of physical therapy left before he could walk on it again, but everything was proceeding as best as could be expected.</p><p>By the time she got up from that couch, the crowds in the inner courtyard had thinned, most people having gotten their fill from the food stalls already. Rivia stretched and headed for the pastry stall, spirits lifted and belly rumbling. Perhaps the gods heard her prayer and granted her Yulemas wish after all.</p><p>That thought promptly flew out the window a heartbeat later, when she heard the Head Healer call her name.</p><hr/><p>In all his years of service to the King of Adarlan, the Hand to the King had never seen a celebration quite like this one.</p><p>People of all walks of life, mingling freely with one another. Drinks had loosened tongues — and limbs — on the dance floor. None of the restrained pomp of parties at the palace, where the nobles hardly allowed themselves to laugh — though things were changing a bit now with Dorian on the throne. From the bright smiles and ringing laughter, Chaol could feel the palpable release of stress from the people around him, patients and healers alike. He knew how important another year was for these people, to whom time could be the most precious thing in the world. Standing here, beside his wife, he was never more grateful for his aching feet. She was the reason he could feel them at all.</p><p>He had met many of her friends before — healers, physicians, patients, their families — but some were new. The nobles here today were part of his circle, members of the King’s Council and major donors to the Tower of Dawn. Well, most of those invited opted out, preferring to stay in the comfort of their townhouses or palace suites rather than mingle with the rabble on the night before Yulemas.</p><p>Once, he would have probably done the same. But now he couldn’t imagine himself anywhere else, surrounded by families that rejoiced at simply being alive — his included.</p><p>He glanced to where his mother, brother, and daughter lingered with other families, the adults chatting idly with one another as they watched the children play. Josefin tottered around gleefully, ever the diva, trailed by a couple of boys her age.</p><p>Chaol frowned, hoping that wasn’t an image of foreshadowing. As another one of Yrene’s patients drifted away to enjoy the rest of the night, his wife turned to him.</p><p>“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” she said, eyes twinkling up at him.</p><p>“I’ve been starving since that group of physicians came over here talking about apple fritters.”</p><p>“That was almost an hour ago! You should have said something.”</p><p>“I can’t help it if people are drawn to you wherever you go.”</p><p>“Oh, please.” She batted his arm and led him away to the indoor courtyard. “It wasn’t me they were drawn to, <em> sir </em>.”</p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice those girls giggling every time you walked past. I don’t even think they were all students.”</p><p>“Oh. I attributed that to the jovial atmosphere.”</p><p>“Mm-hmm.”</p><p>Her hand clasped in his, they made their way to the broad arches at the base of the Tower, which sat in the very center of the entire complex. From the top, it commanded magnificent views of the Tower’s grounds as well as Rifthold itself. Aside from the palace, it was the best place to view the capital.</p><p>They emerged into the indoor courtyard, where the smell of hot chocolate, fresh-baked pastries, and smoked meat enveloped him. This late in the evening, the vendors were still operating, but the lines that snaked before them earlier were long gone. Now only a few scattered parties milled about, getting in their last orders before the stalls closed.</p><p>He and Yrene joined the sparse crowds, walking along leisurely as they decided what to eat. At some point she released his hand and bent to retie a shoelace. Gazing around the courtyard, he noticed the baker at the pastry stall wiping down his counter while an assistant packed up goods.</p><p>“Yrene, they only have a few apple fritters left.” He turned back to his wife and found her talking to a woman he didn’t know. They turned to face him.</p><p>“Oh. Hello.” He glanced between them. The woman looked to be about his age, with straight black hair and ruddy cheeks. She didn’t meet his gaze. He looked at her again, frowning. There was something familiar about her…</p><p>Yrene smiled up at him. “Sorry, I want you to meet one more person and then we can eat, I promise.” She looked back at the stranger, who finally met his eye. In that moment, it clicked, and Chaol felt the ground shift under him.</p><p>“This is one of our brightest physicians,” Yrene was saying. “She just joined us a little over a year ago. Her name is —”</p><p>“Lithaen?”</p><hr/><p>From the sound of her voice, the Head Healer was much too close to Rivia for her to pretend she didn’t hear.</p><p>She froze in place, her body reacting as if she had been caught committing a crime. Slowly, she turned, swallowing her dread, holding onto the slim hope that Yrene was alone. It completely dissolved when she faced the other woman.</p><p>His head was turned, apparently surveying the courtyard around them. It wouldn’t be long now, Rivia thought desperately, unless she came up with an excuse to dash off <em> right now </em>. She barely heard what the Head Healer was saying, the pulse in her ears almost deafening.</p><p>“Oh. Hello,” she heard him say. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. If it was anything like she remembered, it would be sharp and she was having trouble just now schooling her features into calmness. He wouldn’t miss a thing.</p><p>With mounting horror, she listened as if from a distance as Yrene introduced her. Rivia’s eyes darted to the side, again scanning for any escape routes. There were none.</p><p>Maybe he wouldn’t recognize her — it was another slim hope, but now it was all she had. It had been long enough, over six years. Her hair was longer now, she didn’t wear a maid’s uniform anymore — </p><p>“Lithaen?”</p><p>She wanted to crumple into a ball, roll into a corner, and stay there. Yrene went quiet, looking between her husband and Rivia. In some ways, that look was worse. That look always preceded the look of disappointment, betrayal — emotions she never wanted to see on the face of the Head Healer, a woman she respected very much.</p><p>And to know that she would be the cause of those emotions was worst of all.</p><p>Apparently she was silent for far too long, because then Yrene spoke again, her voice wary. “What is going on?”</p><p>Rivia swallowed. “Head Healer, L-Lord Westfall —”</p><p>“What are you doing here?” There was a hint of something Rivia couldn’t identify in Chaol’s voice. Warning, maybe — and genuine confusion.</p><p>“I-I’m a physician, in training here, at the Tower.” The whole story threatened to tumble out, how she came to the Tower not knowing she’d be under the wing of the wife of Rivia’s ex-lover, how she didn’t want to say anything because she was finally moving on from her past — </p><p>She clamped her lips shut, not wanting to babble. Instead, she caught his stare. There was shock there, for sure, but also… a trace of hurt.</p><p>Hurt she had refused to acknowledge so many years ago.</p><p>“Can someone please explain,” Yrene said flatly.</p><p>“She’s —” Chaol began, looking at his wife. “The woman from the story I told you. About Prince Roland.”</p><p>Rivia wanted to shrink even further at the look of realization that dawned on Yrene’s face. Her mouth opened on a surprised “o,” then—</p><p>“<em> Oh </em>.” Gone was the warm pride, or even the wary confusion from earlier. “You’re the one?” Yrene’s voice was quietly dangerous, but it was a tone that carried. Rivia sensed heads swiveling in their direction, and simultaneously she wanted to dig her own grave on the spot.</p><p>Yrene opened her mouth to speak again but then closed it. Finally she demanded, “How long have you known?”</p><p>“Yrene.” Chaol touched his wife’s arm.</p><p>Rivia met the Head Healer’s glare. “I-I suspected when I learned your name, Head Healer, but that wasn’t until I first got here. I promise. I swear, I wasn’t s-stalking or anything…” Yrene’s brows rose. Rivia hurried on, “I didn’t want to say anything because all I wanted was to come here, learn to be a physician, and be on my way. I didn’t see any reason why you had to know.”</p><p>For a moment the couple studied her: Yrene, stern, and Chaol, wary and still a bit shaken. For the third time in the past few minutes — had it only been minutes? — Rivia wanted to sink into the floor and stay there.</p><p>Finally Yrene sighed. “I believe you. But only because I know you’re a competent physician. And you may be right about the… other business.” She glanced at her husband.</p><p>No doubt Yrene had calculated the consequences of word getting out, the potential for rumor of a scandal, never mind how long it had been. If the Tower and the palace had anything in common, it was that gossips were everywhere.</p><p>Rivia pressed her advantage. “And I changed my name a couple years ago because I — I turned over a new leaf.” She dared a look at Chaol; his face was unreadable.</p><p>“Rivia!” She jumped at the sound of that name, her chosen name, on her friend’s lips. Turning, she saw Gillian, Robine, and Olly looking expectantly at her.</p><p>“Good evening Head Healer, Lord Westfall,” said Gillian, oblivious. She came up to put an arm around her friend. “I see you’ve finally met our Rivia. She’s been making herself scarce the whole night, pleading work instead of enjoying herself.” Rivia shot her soon-to-be not-best-friend a warning look, which she ignored.</p><p>Lord Westfall offered a tight smile. “I’m sure she has.”</p><p>“We’ll let you ladies enjoy the rest of the night,” Yrene said. She didn’t wait for a reply before taking her husband’s arm and walking away.</p><p>“What… was that about?” Olly asked after a tense silence. Rivia’s friends were still looking puzzledly between her and the Westfalls’ retreating backs. “Did you say something stupid?”</p><p>“Olly!” chided Robine.</p><p>“What? They didn’t look too happy to me.”</p><p>“That’s because they weren’t,” Rivia replied flatly. She felt exhausted, her embarrassment used up for the night. When her friends looked quizzically at her, she just said, “Don’t ask. At least… not until tomorrow. I need a drink now.”</p><hr/><p>Yrene’s grip on his arm was almost painful.</p><p>As they walked the first few steps away from Rivia — Lithaen — and her friends, Chaol felt a strange sensation creeping through him. Actually, it had crept up the moment he recognized her, heard her voice again for the first time in six years. Shock, definitely, but also a twinge of... guilt? But he had nothing to feel guilty for, except perhaps the fact that his wife would be working under the same roof as that woman and have to live with the knowledge of her backstory for however many more years Lithaen would train at the Tower. As to Yrene’s feelings…</p><p>She ground them to a halt. The vendors around them were packing up now, but Chaol didn’t have an appetite anymore. He suspected the same was true for her.</p><p>“Well. That was an interesting turn of events.”</p><p>He watched her, her face unusually inscrutable. She didn’t seem angry anymore, at least.</p><p>“Believe me,” he said dryly, “that was the last thing I thought would happen today.”</p><p>“Just… I need a moment to digest this.” Then she looked more closely at him. “What about you? That can’t have been easy for you.”</p><p>He told her the full story one night a couple months ago, when Yrene — half-jokingly — asked him about his first love. They were curled up together on the back porch, a blanket strewn across their laps and cups of hot tea in hand. It was the first day of fall, and the air had just started to turn crisp, along with the golden brown leaves that drifted from the trees. On that clear night, the stars were bright.</p><p>“You’re my first love,” Yrene had murmured, breaking the comfortable silence. When Chaol looked at her, she gave him that radiant smile of hers — at once shy and open — and snuggled deeper into his shoulder.</p><p>“Was Aelin your first love?” she’d asked then.</p><p>She wasn’t, but he had told Aelin who was. Including the fact that he fully expected never to see her again.</p><p>So he shrugged. He was only nineteen when he met Lithaen, he explained to Yrene. He was naive, but so was she. Young love, plain and simple, except if anyone knew the noble Captain of the Guard was courting a <em> maid </em>… things wouldn’t be so plain and simple then.</p><p>“For the longest time I thought Prince Roland had blackmailed her,” he’d remarked. “Told her to run off with him and he’d keep our secret. But still I wondered if she went willingly. She didn’t say much when I found them together.”</p><p>Then he’d flashed a smile, trying to let her know it was okay, it didn’t hurt anymore, it was a long time ago. Time heals all wounds. But Yrene only shook her head and said, “How could anyone leave you?”</p><p>“You must have thought of leaving me at some point, early on in our acquaintance.”</p><p>“I— That is not the same.”</p><p>“Look.” He caressed her cheek. “It was a long time ago. I hardly even think about it anymore. Besides, it was bound to end badly one way or another. I’ve long since made my peace with it.”</p><p>“Do you ever wonder where she is now?”</p><p>“Sure, sometimes. Prince Roland fell prey to the Valg, but I wonder if she made it out alive.”</p><p>Yrene was still frowning. So he’d leaned over and kissed the knot between her brows and said, “Enough of that. First loves are overrated.”</p><p>“Except for mine.” A smile tugged at her lips, which he kissed.</p><p>Now as Yrene looked up at him, trying to gauge how he felt, he shrugged again. “Weird,” he said honestly. “Weird, but okay. I’m okay.”</p><p>“Of all the places… I thought Adarlan was a vast kingdom. How is it so easy to run into people from our past?”</p><p>“You know, it’s kind of your fault. If you hadn’t founded a nationwide center for healing medicine and learning, she never would have come back to Rifthold.”</p><p>“Gods.” She sighed in mock exasperation. “Maybe I should let her have you.”</p><p>He scoffed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Our daughter needs her father.”</p><p>“Oh, all right then.” She looped her arm through his once again and went back outside to find Josie.</p><hr/><p>After Yulemas, business at the Tower was again in full swing. A couple weeks into the new year, the Hand to the King arrived with a small Fenharrowian delegation for a tour of the complex.</p><p>Upon hearing the news, Rivia instinctively prepared to avoid the party, as she did all the other times the Hand came to the Tower. But since the extreme awkwardness that was the Yulemas ball last year, Rivia thought <em> what was the point? </em></p><p>Actually, she had been pondering whether she owed him more. Even though there was absolutely nothing between them, it felt cruel to disappear without an explanation not once but twice.</p><p>So this time, perhaps she would track him down and try to offer an explanation. Or, gods, an apology. If he didn’t want to hear it, fine. But she felt she should at least try, at least for the sake of her relationship with the Head Healer.</p><p>It wasn’t what Lithaen would do. But it was what Rivia would do.</p><p>Because she didn’t want to look back on last Yulemas and wince for the rest of her life. She’d capped off the momentous night with heavy drinking and the next morning, nursing a hangover, she’d sworn her friends to secrecy before spilling the tale.</p><p>“No wonder you were so eager to get away,” Gillian had remarked, tapping her chin. Rivia glared at her; she hadn’t realized her excuses were so transparent.</p><p>“Oh, I noticed,” her friend explained. “It was the timing, really. You could have checked on the Colemans during one of the many times we passed by them last night.”</p><p>“We did not,” Rivia retorted weakly.</p><p>“Oh right, we did,” said Olly. “They were one of the first ones there.”</p><p>“Not helping, Olly,” Rivia mumbled.</p><p>“Well,” said Robine, ruefully, “I said nothing good would come of meeting nobles. And I was right.” She glanced at Rivia again from beneath lowered lashes. “Very right.”</p><p>She had confidence that her friends would keep the story between them. Now, all she had to do was find the Hand, talk to him alone… She could do that. Then she — they — could finally have some kind of closure.</p><p>The day of his visit dawned bright and cloudless, though snow still blanketed the courtyard outside. Rivia watched from a windowed corridor as the delegation came through and their horses were stabled. The Hand was clearly visible alongside the four Fenharrowian ambassadors and their guards. Today, he used his cane to help navigate the walkways.</p><p>By keeping her ears open, Rivia kept track of his movements throughout the complex. She was lucky to have a light patient caseload today, which she saw to before enjoying some precious, well-earned downtime.</p><p>About two hours later, the Hand was finally leaving. Rivia lingered in the inner courtyard, hoping to catch him on his way out. Belatedly, she wondered if she should have sent a note instead, giving him the option of easy refusal. Too late, she thought ruefully, as he emerged a moment later with the ambassadors.</p><p>They milled about the courtyard, talking quietly. Rivia couldn’t hear what was said, but when the Hand gestured for the ambassadors to precede him out of the courtyard, she forced her feet forward.</p><p>“Excuse me, Lord Westfall.”</p><p>He turned. Vaguely she registered that the ambassadors, too, turned to look at her.</p><p>“Might I have a moment of your time, my lord? There is a matter I wish to discuss with you.”</p><p>His expression was guarded as he considered her request. She felt her heart pound nervously in her chest as she waited. There weren’t many people around at this hour, not yet, but still she could feel eyes looking toward them.</p><p>Finally he dropped his gaze and looked at his companions. “Will you excuse me, my lords, my ladies? This will only take a moment.”</p><p>They nodded and headed outside. When Chaol finally turned to face her, face unreadable as ever, he asked, “What is it?”</p><p>“May we speak privately? The balcony on the outdoor mezzanine is usually quiet at this hour.”</p><p>He just shrugged. “Lead the way.”</p><p>The walk was short but Rivia felt every minute of it, his gaze boring into the back or side of her head. The tap of his cane against the floor was a metronome for her racing thoughts. When they finally emerged onto the balcony — mercifully empty — Rivia walked up to the rail. He came up beside her, a few paces away.</p><p>This was it; she took a deep breath. “Everything I said at Yulemas was true. I only came to Rifthold to become a physician. To help people. I wanted to leave my past behind me. I’m not proud of it. But I figure it’s never too late to make changes. To be better.”</p><p>His face was still carefully blank. He only regarded her with the sort of dispassionate look that Rivia interpreted as unimpressed. Still, she pressed on.</p><p>“The last time I was in Rifthold, I wronged you. I know I wronged you. For that I deeply apologize. I didn’t have the courage to say it then, but I’m saying it now. I’m sorry.”</p><p>The moment she said the words, a weight she didn’t know she was carrying lifted from her shoulders. Subtle, but all the more conspicuous now that it was gone. Even if he didn’t accept her apology, it was done. She had looked him in the eye and said the words, meant them. It didn’t make up for all the other people she had wronged, but it was a start.</p><p>“Anyway,” she continued, when he still didn’t reply, “that’s all I wanted to say. Seeing you again at Yulemas reminded me that I couldn’t run from my past forever. I needed to face what I’d done. So I’m sorry.”</p><p>She started to turn away when he spoke.</p><p>“You were in Meah this entire time?”</p><p>“Yes,” she replied carefully. “I went to Meah, with the prince. Even after he… left me, I stayed there, in the city.”</p><p>“Were you with him when he was taken by the Valg?”</p><p>“No. But I heard what had happened. There were whispers of it all around the city.”</p><p>Chaol fell silent, staring out at the view below. From the balcony, one could see the herb gardens on the outskirts of the complex, and the city beyond. Midmorning in Rifthold: the sun shining off red clay roofs, marble, cobblestone streets. In the distance part of the palace was visible, Adarlanian colors flapping from the proud turrets gleaming in the brisk winter wind.</p><p>“I accept your apology,” he said finally. Rivia’s gaze snapped up to his, for all the good it did. She still couldn’t read his face, though her heart pounded at his words.</p><p>“I know how hard it is to admit past mistakes,” he went on. “To realize everything you’d known was wrong, and to start over again.” He cut a glance at her. “It isn’t Lithaen anymore, is it?”</p><p>Rivia blinked, the question catching her off-guard. His tone was casual, but sharp. The Chaol she remembered was restless and full of pent-up energy, but the man who stood before her now exuded a quiet self-assurance that made her think that she had needed the apology much more than he did.</p><p>She nodded. “It’s Rivia now.” She hesitated, then: “I had an epiphany, of sorts. I hit a low point, and decided that something had to change. I couldn’t go on that way, or I’d be dead.” Surprise flickered across his face, and she explained, “In my carelessness, I was constantly undermining all kinds of people. Nobles. If I’d continued, one of them was bound to take care of me, one way or another.”</p><p>She told him of how she found healing, through helping the sick and injured. How it finally settled the restlessness in her own heart and allowed her to start over again.</p><p>After she finished, he gazed back at the city, squinting against the sun. Rivia lost track of how long they’d stood there, recalling old ghosts. Chaol broke the silence.</p><p>“You were brave to do what you did.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and for a brief moment she saw the nineteen-year-old she was once smitten with. But then it was gone as he looked her directly in the eye.</p><p>“The world needs more healers. And physicians. It is good that you’re here.”</p><p>With a nod, he turned and left. Rivia simply stood there, stunned.</p><p>It was the last thing she expected him to say. But as a tear slid down her cheek, she realized that it was exactly what she needed most to hear.</p>
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